


Queen's orders

by BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Chains, Creampie, Domination, Erotica, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, One Shot, Oral Sex, Passion, Porn With Plot, Punishment, Romance, Season 6 Compliant, Season 7 wishful thinking, Season/Series 06, Season/Series 07, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Subtle D/s, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, dirty mind writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian/pseuds/BlackandPinkUnicornGuardian
Summary: Partially inspired by the leaked photos from the set of Season 7. Daenerys has taken possession of her family’s ancestral castle on Dragonstone, and is now compiling her agenda for the future. Those who obey her get their reward; those who resist her, get their punishment.Actually... it’s just some one-shot porn with plot featuring Dany and Jorah, inspired by Iain Glen’s new uniform and by the trailer “The long walk”. NSFW. Detailed and explicit, dirty and romantic.





	Queen's orders

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for the attention, the kudos and the comments! Have a look at my book-verse fiction in progress Can I play with madness: there will be plenty of smut, D/s, bdsm-ish situations and allusions, as well as romance.

She had long before resigned to the worst possible outcome.

She had cursed herself continuously for days after their parting, and then she had found herself longing for him often in the months of their separation: while she had often questioned and doubted their bond, deep down her she had known for so long he was a good advisor and a true friend. She had experienced her _biggest heartbreak_ upon discovering his traitorous past and upon realizing she had truly lost him by banning him. She had experienced the emotional equivalent of a flight on a wild dragon meeting him again and struggling with all that has followed his unexpected return to Meereen, and then to Vaes Dothrak. Only the day of their parting had she finally openly acknowledged – to herself, to him and even to Daario – how she felt for him. All the love she harboured in her heart had come out then, not in the form of words, but in the form of an aborted embrace, of copious tears and of an order not to give up life until there was some hope. She had also acknowledged much more in her heart…namely how handsome and attractive he was, even in his dirty, ragged and battered state, even being far older than any man she had ever envisioned herself with. Deep blue eyes that had always shown the truth: that he cared for her, in the beginning, and that he loved her, after a while. Perfect cheekbones, enticing ginger chest hair poking out his shirt.

Now a miracle had just happened. Now that man was here, in front of her, in the throne room at Dragonstone. Her heart was thumping, her belly was fluttering, and the spot between her legs showed signs of awakening.

“I obeyed your… command, my queen. Now I am here to serve you again.” His voice was full of emotions: she could recognize it. So were his eyes, and hers reciprocated. She gazed long into his eyes, and made a point of smiling tenderly at him. He understood she could not show more emotion than that, and smiled back.

“How did you…manage... it?”

“I soon realised that no place on Essos could be as devoted to knowledge as the Citadel, so I didn’t waste my time on the other side of the Narrow Sea, and sailed for Oldtown. A place where, at least, any experiment or study on my person could mean survival for someone after me. A place I could get back to, because Robert had the time to pardon me. A place I could ask the lord to fund my treatment, considering his daughter had bankrupted me.”

 _Oldtown. Lord Hightower. Lynesse Hightower._ Daenerys felt something new inside her that added to the aches she felt in her heart and between her legs. Queen Daenerys felt threatened, and not by Cersei Lannister, Euron Greyjoy, or mysterious ice creatures with an interest in necromancy.

But she was a queen on her throne, with her entire court present, and she was in the middle of important negotiations with her prospective ally, Jon Stark. The only thing she could discuss right now was politics. Even with her bear. To be honest, she needed her bear at court as well.

\--

A queen, however, is a woman as well. In Daenerys’ case, a fiery and stubborn woman with needs. Tyrion had more or less accepted Jorah back, reinstated as her advisor…and also as Lord Commander of her Queensguard. Jon and Jorah had hit it off almost immediately: memories of Jorah visiting Winterfell and playing with little Jon and Robb, and the connection to Jeor brought them near from the first moment. Of course, Daenerys didn’t know that the two had also talked about their stories with Ygritte and Lynesse, and had found they had a lot more in common than they had imagined. They had both acknowledged how Eddard Stark could be unreasonably strict, as they concluded when comparing Jon’s experience at the beheading of the deserter to the missed beheading of Jorah. “If my father had listened to him, we might have had an advantage in fighting the White Walkers”, he said. “He should have tried listening to your reasons too. And I put myself in a similar situation in the Watch, and got away with it”. Bonding with Davos had come easily as well.

Therefore, Daenerys’ court didn’t look like something she had to worry about all the time: there was no hurry to start an attack against the Lannisters, and the discussion of the White Walkers’ threat was proceeding smoothly. It was the time for queen Daenerys to take care of woman Daenerys again, especially since she noticed she spent a lot time comparing Jorah’s old yellow shirt to the new elegant black Targaryen uniform in order to find out which outfit of him made her wetter. Often, this happened while she was looking at him, getting lost in his blue eyes, or admiring his cheekbones; sometimes, it simply happened spontaneously in her head. The last time, she had not only felt her nipples and clit hardening, but also her small lips vibrating and her wetness flowing out. All of this while sitting at the famous painted table made by her ancestor with her advisors and allies …

\--

She summoned him. She could do it. She considered briefly summoning him directly to her room, but  she realized that was too bold, even for Queen Daenerys Stormborn. She summoned him to the throne room instead, and ordered everybody else to leave. **_Everybody_**. Her Lord Commander’s sword was enough to serve her and protect her.

\--

“How do you like your uniform, Ser Jorah?”

“It is worthy of you, my Queen”.

“I am not the one wearing it, ser. I would rather know if **_you_** like it, and if you feel at ease wearing it.” _And I would rather tear it off you, Ser._ A mischievous grin let her thoughts surface on her features.

Jorah was still standing there, watching her intently. “You know I would serve you even in rags, my Queen.”

 _How about serving me naked?_ “I know you would serve me no matter the cost…and the clothing, my bear.”

Jorah, still uncertain about what was going on, simply smiled to the beautiful woman on the throne.

Daenerys, certain she had to take matters into her hands, reprised: “When we parted, that day…before you…showed me your disease…I was going to…well…I….”

Does a queen need to explain herself or request anything? No, she doesn’t. Daenerys simply stood up and threw herself on Jorah, giving him the hug she was going to give him that sad day in Vaes Dothrak, before he stopped her. After an instant of surprise, Jorah started closing his arms on her, and – finally sure it wasn’t a dream or a misunderstanding – hugged her tightly too. Daenerys pushed her face into Jorah’s chest, letting her body relax – not completely, though, a certain ache between her legs still pulsing. At least her heartache quieted: Jorah tightened his embrace by leaning his head on hers, and then let one of his hands caress her back, at first tenderly, then a little more sensually.

Daenerys sensed the moment was right, and lifted her face, then moved slowly towards his lips. Jorah let her reach his lips without hurrying, his heart beating as madly as Daenerys’. They only needed a few instants to lock their lips, instants they spent savouring the anticipation, the foretaste, the warmth of their bodies.

And finally they felt each other’s lips: a feathery caress at first, some careful, tender but passionate probing, some reciprocate pursing, some nibbling; then, spontaneously, a light accidental contact of their tongues triggered in Jorah the need to sensuously slide his tongue into Daenerys’ mouth, feeling unable to do anything else than being inside her as soon as possible. Daenerys thought she would go mad from the pleasure of the kiss and from the suggestion of the gesture, and returned the caresses to her whole mouth with her tongue too. Her hands explored his hair, his neck, his shoulders and arms; his hands took care of her back and reached her buttocks, honouring them, brushing them with passion and reverence at the same time.

Not even the woman who entered two pyres could withstand the heat caused by their kiss in their whole bodies, and the heady feelings they aroused in each other. If Jorah already had experienced a short time of happiness and total bliss, and was, nevertheless, burning from love and desire for the woman he had sworn his heart and soul to so long ago, for Daenerys it was a life-changing sensation, which surprised her: she had never thought of herself as an unexperienced woman.

Her ache and her wetness were increasing, and she felt Jorah growing as hard as his dagger’s pommel, a sensation she found incredibly arousing, magic, and beautiful, incredibly surpassing the beauty of riding a dragon by far. She moved slightly to rub her nipples on his chest and his cock on her belly, their kisses and their touches never stopping.

It was not enough.

She moved slightly away, admired his handsome features changed by desire, as he did the same with her flushed face, and finally she uttered the only order both wanted to hear:

“Take off your cloak, your surcoat, your shirt, your dagger and your sword belt.” She rubbed her hands on her chest, and stepped back in order to admire him.

Jorah, upon hearing her command, feared his cock would explode, but inhaled slowly, then kept his eyes on his love, almost arrogantly, and proceeded to obey, slowly, enjoying every instant of it. And she enjoyed it too, all of it: she didn’t miss a single move, or a single inch being uncovered.

When his torso was finally naked, it was her who feared her clit would tear her smallclothes and her cunt would explode. The gorgeous ginger chest hair she had unconsciously admired for years when it was poking out from that yellow shirt of his was finally in front of her. The scars of his arm did not matter: in fact, they made him even more attractive to her. She moved back towards him, first caressing his well-shaped biceps and shoulders, and then finally lusciously and foxily stroking his chest. Another heady tingle possessed her and his body and mind.

It was still not enough.

Daenerys grasped his loosened waistband, and started pulling him towards her throne.

When they reached the throne, Jorah felt the need to take her head in his hands and kiss her again, their tongues dancing, the allusion of their kiss even clearer than before; then proceeded to search for her dress’s laces on her back in order to loosen them, and proceeded to uncover her breast. His heated kisses and nibbling moved to her neck, the sensuality of his attention and the further stimulation brought by his beard making Daenerys go crazy immediately, as her moans signalled. Then it was the collarbone he attacked, and then the mound, and finally the nipple.

Another loud moan, another kiss, this time turning from nibbling into a proper sucking. A gush of wetness flowed between her legs, drenching her smallclothes.

And he hadn’t even really begun.

Jorah lifted his head briefly - a smug grin on his face - to admire his love’s chest, but soon returned to his attentions. The other side of the neck, the collarbone, the mound, the nipple. A kiss, some sensuous nibbling and sucking. Daenerys’ loud moans, mirrored by Jorah’s content low hums and moans. _Oh, Gods._ They both thought. Sucking turned to licking: first one mound and nipple, then the other, his hands sensually cupping and holding her breasts from below. First, he carefully stimulated with his tongue one nipple, and then the other. Daenerys was openly screaming: she had never though a man could be so skilled as to make her peak just by sucking and licking her nipples. Or was it their love that made it so intense? Or both?

When Jorah tightened his hold on her teats , pulled them slightly together, and started licking them more roughly, first singularly and then quickly alternating his licking between her to nipples by slowly shaking his head, her question lost any meaning or importance. An even stronger pleasure originated by the passionate stimulation her bear applied to her hardened, burning teats made sure of that: it was skill, it was Jorah’s desire to observe her reaction and adapt to her sensitivity, it was her wanting so badly to be with him and him reciprocating.

Jorah continued sucking, licking and nibbling her, getting bolder and rougher every minute.

It was yet another strong peak for her. And he had not even touched her favourite spots…

If Jorah had read her mind, she never knew. He surely read her body well. He pulled her dress down, roughly, gazing into her eyes with a fire she had never seen in him before. She was naked in a few instants, and nobody cared for the loud ripping sounds the dress made. She stepped out of the dress and the smallclothes while Jorah admired her and felt like in heaven, his breeches on the verge of tearing.

As the knight he was, Jorah put her dress on the throne as to cover it.

Then, he put his hands on Daenerys’ hips, and pulled and pushed her to sit on the throne. He remained standing.

He bent over her, leaning on the throne with his strong hands, to give her another passionate kiss, then he moved to her neck again, and continued downwards, sending shivers across her.

He didn’t stop at her teats, though. He continued, honouring her belly as he kneeled.

He didn’t stop.

His hands were suddenly on her ankles, and started stroking her on the inner side, going upwards, slowly, torturing her. When they reached her thighs, she felt the heat rising in her belly again. A few delicate and foxy strokes up and down his thigs, then he pushed her legs apart to further widen them.

His mouth went where his hands had left. Slow kisses explored her thighs, then her mound crowned by silver hair.

_Oh Gods._

He didn’t stop.

He kissed her outer lower lips lightly for a while, teasing her madly, then stuck out his tongue again. The first man ever to taste her, she felt his exploring tongue wandering with a feathery but warm and wet touch between her folds, savouring her wetness, getting to know the shape of her lower lips and clit, and probing her reactions for a while.

Jorah wasn’t unexperienced, and Daenerys was so aroused that there was no mistake. A kiss on her clit, and then his tongue repeated the seduction he had applied to her nipples: a scorching hot light licking, first in one direction, then in the other, always ready to adapt rhythm, pressure and motion to the moans and screams of the enthroned queen. He joined her symphony with throaty moans and hums. The response was clear, and the knight soon knew precisely how to continue his ritual: by lapping her with circular movements. His eyes met hers, and it was one of the most perverse and wonderful things she had done: looking into the eyes of her knight licking her cunt.

It didn’t last long before Daenerys exploded in a loud scream. “Ooooooh…oooohh….OOOOHHH…AAAAHHH; JOOORAAAHHHH”. He lapped her through her orgasm, and Aegon the Conqueror’s throne was blessed by his scion’s pleasure.

A faithful knight on his knees never stops until the ritual is done, though. Jorah paused just a few instants, and then got back to kissing her between her legs. He stuck his tongue inside her - her taste the most valued honey he could ever lick, her warmth being more welcome than a fireplace in winter, his presence inside her more welcome than any other wish or desire she might have had before. Daenerys could not believe it. “Ohhh, Jorahhh, you….oh, gods…” Then, a finger took his tongue’s place. An even louder “Oooh…aaaahhhh” reassured Jorah that his queen was ready for it. He explored her wet walls for a little while, and when he had felt enough clenching and found enough folds, he was ready to add a second finger.

He started finger-fucking her, careful to apply what he had understood it would be the right angle for her. He adjusted himself according to her very explicit reactions, to her varied moans and responses. First slowly fingering, then increasingly steady and strong.

“Ooohhh, Jorah….I never knew….AAAHHH”, her cunt dripping on his fingers, and on his hands. Her honey soon flowed down his wrist, on his forearm.

Jorah could not resist, and his mouth was on her again: first, a light tasting of her juices around her inner lower lips, and then back to lapping her hard clit while finger-fucking her.

Another scream, almost unhuman, filled the throne hall. “OOOOOHHH…..AAAAHHH…OOOOH GOOODS”. Daenerys’ orgasm was even more shattering than the previous one.

It wasn’t enough, for either of them.

Jorah thought he would let her rest for a minute or two, but Daenerys was fire, and was on fire, and she wanted more; and the more she got, the more she wanted.

Still breathing heavily, she took Jorah’s hands and issued another order: “Stand up.” She wasn’t able to express more than that.

He obeyed, and he immediately found her hands on his waistband, loosening the laces and pulling the breeches down. His cock was a glorious sight: erected, veiny, pulsing. The same colour of his skin, a long, proportioned, velvety-looking and incredibly enticing manhood, crowned at the base by some ginger hair akin to his chest hair. She would have licked it and sucked it, but her cunt was burning, and she wanted it desperately where his fingers had just been. She would find another occasion to swallow it with her mouth.

She stood up with great effort and commanded: “Sit on the throne”, all the while pushing him lightly on his chest.

 _Oh, Gods_ thought Jorah this time, sitting down heavily, his breeches gone to his ankles.

Their heart beat madly as she made the few movements she needed to straddle him, take his cock into her hand – Jorah had to control himself – and lower herself onto it. First, his tip touched her burning clit, and she indulged in a few brushes just to tease them both; then the tip found her inner lower lips and the source of her glorious wetness. She made his manhood slide inside her slowly, as to feel every inch of it. She looked down on him, gazing into the eyes she loved so much. Jorah was glad for her slowness, although he feared this precaution – or choice - of hers might not even matter: she was almost immediately sitting on his lap, his hard, pulsating cock balls deep in her. The moment they realized amidst moans they were completely joined was almost enough to make them peak both. Their eyes on the same level, her hands on his shoulders, his hands on her hip, they gazed at each other for a few instants. She loved the sensation of being filled by a rock-hard, velvety and pumping cock, and he loved feeling her around him, tight, wet, and burning. Jorah found the strength to tell her: “My love…oh…you feel so good, gods… ** _please_** take it slowly. I want you to come once again, but on my cock this time.” She murmured to his ear, sending shivers through him: “You feel incredible too. You will feel me come soon…and often.”

 _Dear Gods…_ he changed his grip on her hips as to make her understand that she had to stay still now, and kissed her, although their kisses were sloppier than before. She understood, let him inhale and exhale a few times, and then started moving slowly, in a rocking motion, rubbing her clit and occasionally her nipples on Jorah’s body. Jorah let her lead, enjoying her, sensually and visually, submitting to her will. It was so good: her greedy clit on its way to yet another peak, her cunt swallowing his big, perfect cock, and the strokes being the most incredible caresses both could ever experience.

As before, it only took a few strokes to satisfy her clit again. Jorah, a little surer of his control, started reciprocating her rocking with light counter-motions. They spontaneously settled to find again the right angle for Daenerys’ inner walls to be fucked. As soon as the tip found the spot Jorah’s fingers had previously discovered, Daenerys’ moans changed once again, and so did her motions: rougher and deeper strokes. The slamming of his cock accompanied by the sounds caused by her soaked cunt. They fucked with increasing speed for a while, only to slow down again and let  Daenerys sway her hips, making circular motions while Jorah stood still or simply facilitated her. She had learned this kind of leading the fucking by rocking long ago from Doreah. Jorah was grateful to be able to last even longer without having to pull out for a while from that heaven; Daenerys would have never wanted to feel her pussy empty.

Their tongues met sometimes for some sloppy sliding, the intensity of their pleasure making any other form of kissing impossible.

Then, it was time for steady and rough fucking again, up and down motions with the right amount of rolling. The noise of his cock pounding her wet cunt was loud. They couldn’t stop moaning even when their tongues sought and met each other. It was so heady, and so good, that both thought they would like to go on like this forever. But it couldn’t, and Jorah adjusted his hip movements in order to focus completely on her right spot, and tightened his grip on her. Another change in her moans was the sign that he was where he had to be, and the relentless pounding continued, and the hardness of his strokes increased, and increased. So did the speed of them, and the moans were outright screams of pleasure.

A new, unhuman scream and then Daenerys’ walls clenching him and drowning him, “OOOOOOHHH, AAAAAHHHHHHHH, GOOOODS….Joraaaahhhhh”…told him what he could not witness with his eyes, the eyes he had closed in the effort to serve and satisfy her completely. He managed to let her ride out her orgasm, still pounding through it, only to start his own peak due to her clenching. He spilled explosively inside her: “Ooooohh…. AAAHHHHH… AAAHHHHHH…Oh, Daenerys…Daenerys…”, his warm, copious seed, enhancing and prolonging her own pleasure filling her – he hadn’t been with a woman for so long, and he hadn’t taken care of himself recently, and she felt every single spurt and drop of him, loving the sensation immensely. Even his orgasm seemed to last forever, their joined bodies pulsating with the same rhythm of their hearts, their moans continuing, the warmth and the wetness engulfing them. Even when their peaks were over, they remained joined, hugging, her head on his shoulder. They soon felt another kind of pleasure: the aftermath of completion, the physical, mental and personal closeness, their mixed wetnesses slowly leaking and dripping, giving another blessing to Aegon’s throne.

It was her time now to say what she had never said. She lifted her head and said: “I love you, Jorah.” After a pause: “It’s true, I am not just saying because I discovered how _good_ you are.” Jorah smiled, and tightened his hug, then blessed her hair with a kiss: “I love you. And I am happy you appreciated my approach to _loving you completely_.” Daenerys let a small laugh out, then raised her head, and kissed him: their kiss was deep, but tenderer than before, their passion satisfied for a while. After the kiss, they caressed each other’s hair.

Daenerys had a naughty thought: “Do you think my ancestor Aegon ever enjoyed his throne the way I did? Maybe with Rhaenys? I would rule out Visenya from the scenario, considering what we know of their relationship.” Jorah laughed, and said: “Well, there is no way of knowing. I hope for them they did.” And kissed her again.

\--

They never knew Daenerys’ first scream of pleasure had caused a few Dothraki and Unsullied guards to come and check what was going on, thus embarrassing the Unsullied and amusing the Dothraki immensely. However, they knew their tryst was not going to be a secret, thanks to their loud screams. They never addressed the matter in a very specific way, but Daenerys didn’t shy away from summoning her Lord Commander to her bedroom that night, and the following nights.

The court was trying its best to ignore the fact, but if most people did so because they genuinely recognized the two were in love – and very, very satisfied, judging by what could be heard across Dragonstone – Tyrion Lannister felt partly jealous, partly worried, and could not go on faking ignorance.

“Soon, everybody will know you are sharing your bed with a disgraced knight.”

“He has been pardoned, and he is my Lord Commander.”

“It doesn’t change his past, and he is still a knight from a poor, insignificant House, which means you cannot marry him. And the Gods know how this will end as soon as suitable matches come up…you left Daario Naharis in Meereen to attract suitors, and now repel them by fucking – of all men - **_Ser Bear_** , and letting all Dragonstone know it, including our Northern guests!”

Rage filled Daenerys. “I didn’t hear our Northern guests complaining. Quite on the contrary, Lord Stark and Jorah seem to get along very well, and have been **_more productive_** than you.”

“You see, Your Grace? You don’t even have the care of calling him _Ser Jorah_ while talking to your Hand! What are you doing? Do you think you don’t need new alliances? Or do you want either him or your future husband killed in a duel, or in a fit of jealousy, so that you will have to execute the one who survives? I thought you wanted to follow your ancestor Aegon’s steps. Apparently, you are more interested in imitating Duncan. After all, Dragonstone and Dragonflies do sound similar at first…”

Across the veil of rage clouding her mind, a sparkle of creativity appeared, and Daenerys had the right response to Tyrion.

“When my ancestor Aegon the Conqueror landed in Dragonstone, the dragon had three heads. I had none, but I assure you I will let you influence, maybe even single-handedly choose who the third head is before we invade Westeros.”

And Tyrion immediately knew he had let himself be cornered again by letting his tongue wag, judging by the dangerous sparkle he had seen in the Queen’s eyes, and by the challenging tone she had used. He was right, but he didn’t know the real extent of Daenerys’ plan yet…

\--

Daenerys proposed to Jorah: he was to be not only her friend, her advisor, her Lord Commander, and her lover, but also her consort and _the second head of the dragon._ Thus, he would be bound to her by every possible vow, and she would still be free to broker an alliance. Her third head would be addressed to as King, but she would remain the Queen who ruled over Westeros and over their polygamous marriage. And her heart remained solely Jorah’s, who would then be to Daenerys what Rhaenys was to Aegon, the spouse he dedicated more time and all of his passion to.

Jorah was happy to accept, and the arrangement was announced immediately.

\--

“I want you to follow my instructions, my love. I want to make this night truly special. You will be my soldier, and I will be the commander, and I will order you around aloud.” said in a loud voice Daenerys to Jorah as soon as she had him in their bedroom for a private celebration of their betrothal, a mischievous spark in her eyes.

“I live to serve you, even in the bedroom, my Queen.” Said Jorah before kissing her deeply.

Little did Jorah know that outside their room, next to the door, a chained up Tyrion was sitting, guarded by two very amused Dothraki riders. The queen had felt the need to punish the little Lannister for his attitude, and she had found just the perfect punishment for him.

Tyrion heard every syllable, and more than that.

He heard Daenerys ordering firmly: “Take off your clothes, and then let me admire your body.” After a few moments, he heard some humming, and a slap.

He heard Daenerys commanding: “Now take off my clothes, slowly, and kiss every inch you discover.” The smacking of lips could sometimes be heard.

He heard: “Take me to bed.”

He heard the first moans. He heard all the directions she gave him, all the parts she wanted taken care of, and how. He heard where Jorah’s hands, and tongue, and cock explored, and how she responded to him. Only a wooden door separated them.

He heard her ordering her knight to enter her, and to fuck her. He heard their moans, most of their words of passion.

All the time Jorah ignored what was going on outside their chamber, and continued thinking that Daenerys’ loud orders were just some play dictated by her fantasy, as she had announced.

Tyrion hoped against all hopes it would be over soon. He hoped something happened. Nothing. The sounds of their passion, including the bed creaking and the headboard hitting the wall, continued.

But then he heard Daenerys ordering: “Now, lift me up, and fuck me against the door” in a voice deformed by pleasure.

Any hopes he might have that Jorah would protest, or not be able to fulfil this request, were soon shattered.

He felt the noises – some creaking, bare feet padding, a sort of growl -, he felt something hitting the door, and he felt every single strong, rough, potent hammering through the slamming on the door. He heard every moan, sigh, and scream of pleasure, every swearword, even louder than before. He could even see the door wavering.

He thanked the gods, all of them, when it was finally over, and the Dothraki brought him back to his room, although the loud growls and screams of the couple’s orgasms were probably going to torture him for a while.

But theriders did not unchain him. “The Queen wishes you good night. You will be unchained tomorrow” and they tied his hands to the headboard.

 

 


End file.
